So I leave for New Orleans on Friday!!!!! (have I mentioned that before this? Really, I have? Weird), and I'm just checking out some details of the trip before I leave. Because, you know, that means I can put off packing for one more day.

So first I go to the National Hurricane Center (my current obsession) to see what the "Tropical Weather Outlook" is for the next few days. There's a tropical storm out in the mid-Atlantic, but I'm rather unconcerned about that one. It's this one (listed down further) that I'm more concerned about. It's been looking like it has potential to form a tropical storm for several days and it's just not quitting. Not cool Windward Islands, not cool. I'm more than a little concerned.

And then, for a good measure, I start looking at weather predictions for this weekend, for the road trip. And at EVERY CITY along the way, Thunderstorms are predicted when we're planning on driving through.

So yea, um, if I don't make it to New Orleans, assume it's because after watching a lightning storm I locked myself in a hotel room and have taken to sitting in the corner humming to myself.

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, the actual wedding. Instead of trying to do a play by play, I'm just going to list the top 15 things I'd like to do, or not do, for my wedding. See, that's me being a nice person not making you read so much. Remember that nicety afer you read the rest of this post.

1. I will not be getting married in Bakersfield. Not because I have something against the place, I was born and raised there, but here's the thing- Bakersfield in the summer is, how do you say it? Oh yes, hotter than the hinges of hell. It was a sweltering 102* on Saturday and the wedding was at 6pm. Outside. But see, Bakersfield, unlike the rest of the places where humans dwell, doesn't really cool down at night (I suppose that's actually relative, it did cool down to a balmy 95* by the time the ceremony began). And while I'm planning on having an outdoor wedding in June, having one in Bakersfield in July, well, it's just hot. There's no better adjective. I could list all the places I was sweating, but that would be crude, and I'm just not into that. Generally speaking.

2. I will have small bottles of water at my wedding, because that was thinking ahead, and I'm fairly sure we can credit those bottles of water for hundreds of people not passing out.

3. I will start my wedding at least close to on time. We got there at 5:45, sat in the air conditioned room for a few minutes and then we were herded outside at about 5 'til 6. And there we sat and waited. And waited. And waited. The wedding started 27 minutes after it was scheduled, which wasn't that bad considering that that the bride has been upwards of an hour late for other things. On the other hand, considering that it was 900 FREAKING DEGREES outside, it was that bad.

4. I will not recite the alphabet, nor will I display it. The outside area for the ceremony was decorated, mostly in pink and white, which were the wedding colors. They had two giant flags hanging, one with her first initial and one with his (pink flags with white letters, and hers had a rose on it, not to be pretty but because the woman who ironed them the night before fell asleep with the iron on and burned a hole in the middle of it. Heh.) See, the thing is, that like The Fiance and I, their first initials happen to be two letters that are next to each other in the alphabet, so the flags looked like something that belonged in a kindergarten classroom with the other 24 letters.

5. I will put seatbelts on all the chairs containing children. I don't think I need to elaborate on this one except to say that the cake was in grave danger many times.

6. I will force The Fiance to practice the wedding vows even before the rehearsal. Because if you don't, you risk the chance of him promising you his pride and INfidelity, instead of fidelity and then when you recite it, even properly, at the ceremony, both sides of the bridal party will crack up laughing.

7. I will not handwrite the placecards in pencil. Again, no elaboration needed.

8. I will not require, nor endorse, karaoke. No, I'm not joking. The three of 16 tables labelled as "reserved" got to go get their food, but per the bride's instructions, no other table could go until at least one person sang a song with the word "love" in it, acapella, into the microphone. It's a good thing that I was at a reserved table, because I'd have gnawed off my own arm before I'd sing. And then, the first 9 to 10 songs of the reception were various family members and friends singing songs, several of which were from Disney movies. And while I'm at it, I probably won't let my 80+ year old grandmother sing at my wedding period. Especially not twice.

9. I will make my slideshow myself, because sometimes when you let other family members do it, they pick pictures of you wearing Munchkin costumes. Or pictures from that stage that all girls go through when you think it's cool to take pictures posing like a model and really you look like a super awkward pre-teen.

10. I will put a maximum number of words on my toasts, as well as capping the total number of toasts at 3. Her father spoke first, then her older sister, who's speach, which was 4 1/2 pages TYPED, and was probably the meanest speech I've ever heard. The first 3 pages were recounting memories that no one wants to recount. Like wetting your pants on a car trip, or choosing to read all night verses getting "beauty rest." Methinks that the older sister who gave the second toast was a little bitter about not getting married first. The third toast was her younger sister, and the 4th was her grandmother, who also made a number of little jabs at her.

11. I will not tolerate my new husband sitting with his friends all evening. Did you read that honey? I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT. Lovies.

12. I will not follow the garter tradition. Yes, I'll wear one (despite the fact that I find it ever so slightly raunchy to begin with), yes we'll do the garter toss. But what I won't do is make the girl who caught the bouquet put the garter on the guy to who caught the garter, especially not if the goal is to get it as high up his leg as possible. Apparently the higher it goes, the longer you'll stay married. Frankly, if the height of a garter on a leg is what determines the longevity of our marriage we're already in trouble.

13. I will seat my parents, The Fiance's parents and other waring factions at separate tables so that if one (or more of them) happens to be completely crazy they don't have to stare at each other all evening.

14. I will give my mother at 2 drink maximum, because who knew that 3 gin and tonics in an hour will make almost anyone belligerant?

15. I will hopefully look as beautiful as the bride did and we will surely be as happy as they were (see, I'm still nice somewhere deep inside, but you really have to dig around to find it).

So that's mostly it. There were probably 6 or 7 blog entries worth of information at the wedding, but I'm going to cap it at two, because I'm pretty sure I'm already headed for hell for this, I don't need to start digging there just yet.

As a preface (because I am the master of parenthetical thoughts), I want you to know that yes, I am going to pass judgement in this post and in the one I'll write sometime tomorrow. I do not mean to do it categorically and I apologize in advance if I offend anymore, but my senses have been assaulted all weekend and I want to share. Because I'm super-nice like that. Just relax and understand that I'm not making fun of you. Really, I'm not.

This weekend was my step-sister's wedding, so it's been very busy around these parts with hardly a minute of rest. Just as a reminder, this is the same step-sister mentioned in this post. And again, for the record, I like all of the items on that page, it's the combination that is overwhelming, don't wig out on me yet.

Anyway, Friday was the rehearsal dinner and it started with fireworks. The metaphorical kind. See, my step-dad's ex-wife is, how should I put it? Um, completely crazy. And I'm not trying to be mean, but she's actually crazy. And somewhat voluntarily at that. Anyways, so we walked in the door to the restaurant and she happened to be at the head of one table where we could not go to our seats without getting near to her. When we got closer, my mom noticed someone nearby that she wanted to introduce my sister and me to, and so she stopped to be, what's that again, oh yes, polite. My sister made the mistake of saying hi to the ex-wife and then Crazypants started YELLING about how we had to sit at *THAT* table because we are in the NameIWon'tUse Family, and AS WE ALL KNOW she is not anymore. She's all alone. I'm not exaggerating (and for the record, I am not a NameIWon'tUse nor will I ever be, that's the way that marriage works). She went on and on and on for several minutes. My mom tried to politely point out that this wasn't about her or their issues, it was about the daughter getting married, to which she got a lot of arm waving and yelling of "whatever." It was vaguely reminiscent of the kind of fight you'd see between two girls in high school, except that only one of them was fighting and the other one was moderately sane.

So the evening continues that way, such that anytime anyone walked over to say hello to us, she'd catch them on the way back and talk about us. And not really discretely either. There was much pointing, and occasional flipping-off, because, you know, that's all different kinds of appropriate at a nice dinner.

Perhaps the most frightening part (other than the fact that she's easily 5 inches and 50 pounds bigger than me) is that I've known this woman virtually my whole life. I've never been anything other than kind to her, neither has my mother and yet, she feels a need to shoot laser beam like eyes my way everytime she sees me. I could have holes in my forehead from where she stunned me. As if I, am in any way, to blame for her divorce. Trust me lady, I had no part in that. I'm pretty sure it was on account of the fact that you're crazy.

And don't get me wrong, I'm 100% all for political correctness, but frankly, there's no other word that means what she is. There's just not. I'm open to suggestions, but any 50 year old woman who picks fights with other people at her daughter's rehearsal dinner is pretty much the textbook definition of nuts. Her daughter even apologized to us and said, "you know she's crazy, right?" See, I'm not just being mean, I actually pity her quite a lot. That can't be an easy or low-stress life, what with having to make every little thing into a humongous deal.

So that was part 1, we haven't even gotten to the wedding yet. I'll give you a hint of tomorrow's post though: I now have a nice long list of things that I do, and more importantly, do not want, at my wedding. And my step-dad's ex-wife isn't even anywhere near the top of that second list. (Yes, I know I'm a horrible person. I'm pretty much over it.)

I'm an (extreme!) introvert who senses, thinks and judges. This doesn't surprise me in the least. "A famous example of an ISTJ is the apostle Thomas." As in the one who doubted Jesus. Yea, this says good things about me.

ISTJ's are known for being "...private, does not appreciate strangeness, not adventurous, not spontaneous, follows the rules..." That was a buzz kill for sure. Feel free to click on the chart and dash your self-esteem by taking the test yourself.

I'm going to start by telling you all the things I can't tell you about the wedding dress, just so those of you who might be reading to find that out can quit while you're ahead.

-First and foremost, I won't tell you what it looks like. I'm not doing this to be obnoxious or sly or anything like that, though that's fun too. The Fiance reads this (hi honey!) and he doesn't want to know anything about it, so I don't want to put it out there and force him to read around it.-I will also not be disclosing the price. Rest assured that it costs a lot and it's changing all my careful budgeting.-I will not be listing the size. Though that was the first thing my grandma asked me when she saw it, mostly because at almost 80 she's oddly obsessed with everyone's weight.

So the story...

My mom and I had 3 different bridal stores to go look at (one that my step-sister bought her dress from, one my sister bought her dress from and one major chain we thought we should look into). We went to the first store, where my step-sister found her dress and we began looking at dresses. The consultant we worked with was actually quite nice, none too obnoxious and she gave us room to breathe. We picked out like 15 dresses to try on, but this was our first day of dress looking, so it was really just seeing the dress style I liked and figuring out what looks good on me (trust me, there are a large number of dresses that definitely do not). Out of the 15 I picked, 11 were the exact same designer, so apparently, that was the style I liked.

We got down to like 3 dresses left to try on and I had a "no" pile with about 7 dresses and a "maybe" pile with about 4 dresses. The 3rd to last and 2nd to last were both maybes until I put on the last one. We kept it until last because my mom didn't like it, but when we got it on, well, it was one of those moments. It was THE dress. It fit like a glove (okay, a glove that's a little big in the bust) and it just worked. It was IT. There was a woman standing there, a mother of another girl trying on dresses, and she looked up at me and said, "that dress looks like it was made for you." And I wouldn't mention that except that she was one of three different people who said that, and none of them were trying to sell me the dress, they were all spectators.

Of course, when we looked at the price tag we realized why it was the perfect dress. It was, naturally, the most expensive one I tried on. But in the realm of importance, that extra cost is so small compared to how incredibly happy it makes me. Even so we did go to the other 2 stores to see if we could find a dress we liked as much, if not better, for less money (or alternately, like my sister did, find the dress cheaper elsewhere). I tried on 5 or 10 more dresses, but there was just no question, I had found my dress and all I was doing was wasting my time putting on other ones I didn't like as well.

I'll be ordering THE dress next weekend, and we'll be doing the first fitting at Christmastime (to deal with the boobs, the length and the bustle-ing). I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. Hopefully that satiates some curiosity, though I know it's not everything that could be shared. Yes, I do have pictures, but for now, you'll just have to imagine what it could possibly look like. Not that there are a lot of options or anything...

The bridesmaid's dress situation is sorting itself out nicely (hurray). My headache is back with a vengence. I sucked major sand at beach volleyball (to the degree that some of the more serious players played around me rather than with me). I had more campers with me today than I've ever had before and I'm incredibly exhausted.

But none of this matters because The Fiance passed his (big important) test. I couldn't be happier or more proud of him if I tried. I'm pretty sure that news made my day, if not my week or month, or 6 months.

Okay, so my head doesn't hurt, that's good right? And I may have picked out a bridesmaid's dress. Two good things.

I think that's where the list ends. Because my head doesn't hurt, but I have a cold, I haven't had a voice since Sunday (okay, perhaps it's not the lack of voice, it's the lack of not sounding like a 13 year old boy) and the wedding shiz-nat is hitting the fan again.

My voice started to crack yesterday morning and it's been downhill since then. It's not terrible yet, I'm still mostly comprehensible, but I'd say that it's likely that it will get worse before it gets much better. I'm also all stuffy, so add the no nasal function with the cracky voice and it's none too great. Add to that that I work with people who like to pick on me and just imagine what my day was like.

And then I went bridesmaid dress looking with one parental unit and a bridesmaid today. Which was great, I found a few dresses I liked and one that I really liked. We discussed ordering it and it's just awesome, I'm so excited. But as I've learned, nothing good happens with the wedding without someone being unhappy about it. I informed a different parental unit that I picked out a dress with that other parental unit (and the parental unit KNEW who I was going to be with, this was NOT a surprise) and the parental unit not involved in the picking out is totally upset now. There's just no way to please everyone. I'm going wedding dress shopping this weekend with the upset parental unit, but I don't know that it will make it all better, and I just really don't want to have to find a different dress to appease the masses. Why, why can't my family just work together and be HAPPY? Oh yes, because then there'd be nothing to bitch about and we'd actually have to spend good quality time with each other doing that listening and loving stuff.

Is it really only Tuesday? Really? Excuse me while I go play a rousing game of car tag.

Okay, so this is the 4th consecutive day of headache this go around and I'm starting to lose my mind a little more each day (hard to say if it's the headache or the medications). I'm starting to have a hard time remembering things and everything is just shooting into my brain in non-sequitor existential monologues.

Have you ever wondered how much time people put into acronyms? Like, the Head Impact Transomethingorother System. Did they name it that because that's what they wanted to call it, or is it because they wanted it to have the acronym of HITS? I love how the acronyms are always appropriate to the function/area the product is used for. Although, I'm not sure where SCUBA comes from or who decided that that one made sense.

I am going bridesmaid's dress shopping tomorrow and I think I'd rather pick all the hair off my arms before I actually go on this shopping mission. It could be because I absolutely no idea what I want in a bridesmaid's dress or it could be because I'm going with 2 of the most high maintenance people on the face of the earth. But either way we're going to 2 different stores, and it baffles me that I had to make appointments at both of them. I'm one of those people who doesn't like to be harrassed while I shop, I like to wander alone so I can make nasty comments about the ugly dresses, so making an appointment, scheduling the harrassment, is just not cool.

I hate summer school and everything about it. I'm pretty sure I'm going to get an 89.5% B in my sociology class and there's just nothing I can do about it. I could email with the professor again, but I'm pretty sure he'd tell me that I should apply for a job at the university so I could set my own grading standards. And you know what, I'm almost educated and vengeful enough to do just that.

I hate the pain medication I'm taking. It doesn't really make the pain any better, it just makes me feel detached from it. Like hey, if it felt like my head was connected to my body, then I'm fairly certain it would still be hurting. And the neurologist assured me that I wouldn't feel any "high" like effects from the opiates. Guess he was wrong, hope they don't choose me for drug testing at work.

Just joking of course, they know that I'm high as a kite on opiates all the time.

Every summer of my childhood, my mom's family (grandma/grandpa, all 8 aunts/uncles and their kids) rented a beach house in Ventura, California. It's not an especially nice beach, it's never been an especially fancy house, but it was our beach town and I have many many memories from there. We've gone almost every summer of my life, except last summer and the summer of 2002 because we just couldn't go right after my grandma had died.

These summers were experiences, not all good (example, when my parents separated the morning we left for the beach and by the time we got home all my dad's stuff was moved out), but memorable nevertheless. In the 90's California went through a big draught and we were all about water conservation and therefore, the children had to take group showers. Outside. I'm actually not exaggerating. We had to shower with at least one other cousin/sibling of the same gender in the outdoor shower, which made for a myriad of prank opportunities.

One time in particular, my cousin and I had poured a bucket of ice into the shower where my sister/other cousin were showering, and in retaliation (this was not the first prank of the summer), my cousin, who was probably 12 at the time, came running out of the shower, buck naked, with the hose trying to soak us. But by the time she got out of the gate of the shower we were already inside and instead she absolutely drenched my grandmother who was sitting outside having a cigarette. The image of the soggy cigarette hanging from her mouth is one that will never ever leave my memory.

This summer is quite different. Much more low key, and kid friendly since my cousins, now age 3 1/2 and 5 1/2 are there. And for the record, after 2 1/2 days with them, my ovaries are on strike for the next roughly ten years. Instead of getting ice water or ice dumped on me during the shower, I got a 5 1/2 year old boy wandering in and staring at me. And then, as if that wasn't quite bad enough, he went into the living room where he declared that "Katie's boobies aren't as big as Mama's" and inquired whether mine would be as big as hers when I grew up. Because what I really needed was for this complex to get bigger.

There are many more stories from the beach to share, but those are for the next time I sit at my computer screen waiting for humor to strike me upside the head.

I made a decision Sunday that what I really should become is a locksmith. I don't really want to talk about the details of the experience I had this weekend, but I will say that this is a sweet job.

See, let's say some really nice, really stressed out young woman locks her keys in her, oh I don't know, future in-laws' apartment that she's watching while they're out of state (really, I don't want to talk about it though). And of course because it's Sunday, the apartment office is not open, so she can't just get the spare key and let herself in with just a minor embarrassing moment. No no, instead, she must call a locksmith (so technically she could've called her future sister-in-law to borrow her key, but, and this of course is all hypothetical, she probably didn't want to spread the news of her stupidity any farther. But really, I don't wanna talk about it).

Technically the people at the front desk of the apartment complex are the ones who call because the super-great girl who's locked out of her apartment obviously doesn't have a phone book to flip through. So the front desk calls a few locksmiths. The first one says it's going to be one hundred bucks, no way Jose (not that that happened, because, you know, I don't want to talk about it). The second says one hundred and twenty. Definitely not. The third says 55 plus labor. Which seemed like a great deal. See, the person calling actually even asked how much labor would be, not wanting to be caught in some kind of "trap," and they were told it varied by what needed to be done, which, when you get right down to it, almost seems logical. And these locksmiths then pick a timeline that they think they can make, say like 15 to 20 minutes.

See, but here's where it's great to be a locksmith. You can take your time because even that super awesome girl who's locked out of her apartment isn't going anywhere because she DOESN'T HAVE ANY FRIGGIN KEYS. So she'll sit and wait the 45 minutes it takes to get there. And then, as a locksmith, you get to the door, where upon you realize that all you need is your trusty wire hanger (no, I'm not kidding, but again, I don't wanna talk about it...). You can then just snake your wire hanger up under the door and flip the lock. This whole process takes approximately 25 seconds (plus the almost hour that the client has been waiting).

And then you start the billing. Well, it's 55 dollars for the call, which is already about 5 times what I make in an hour at work. Then there's the labor fee. You see, as a locksmith you can charge ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS to snake a small piece of metal wiring up underneath a door. Clearly this job is much more demanding then I realize, but seriously. So this man, in under five minutes made double my daily salary. Why on earth should a person educate the youth of tomorrow for small pennies when you can unlock doors and make a boatload of money? And that question is precisely why I will be beginning my training at locksmith school tomorrow.

Today (7/9/07) is The Fiance and my 3 year anniversary. So without further ado, here are the top 36 ways/reasons (one for each month we've been together) that I love him.

36. I love that the first time I met you you were wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt. Because for a long time, those were pretty much my favorite movies ever.

35. I love that you love Nintendo, and you support my love of it, that's one of the ways I first knew we were made for each other. The fact that my ringtone on your phone is Mario Brothers makes my heart happy.

34. I love that you have almost all the animated Disney movies ever made. It balances out the extensive Zombie movie collection.

33. I love that you don't make me watch any of the Zombie movies.

32. I love your sense of humor. I know that so much of my life will be spend laughing with and at you.

31. I love that my head fits perfectly on your chest, like it was meant to be there. And that you almost never complain when my earring carves out a third nipple.

30. I love that you run interference with your parents. Your life would probably be less stressful if you didn't, but I love you for doing it.

29. I love how much you have embraced my family, and how much you tolerate from them. I promise that if my aunt says that you're not a real Jew again that we'll just accidentally leave her off the wedding list.

28. I love that you know every word and dance move to the song Ninja Rap (by Vanilla Ice).

27. I love that you read all the booklets. Especially because then I don't have to.

26. I love how much you love the cat (happy birthday to Karma!). You were right that it was a horrible time to get a cat, but I love that you love her in spite of my stupidity/stubbornness.

25. I love that you're not good at miniature golf. It makes me feel better about myself. Especially since you can hand me my ass at bowling, scrabble (with your no cheating rules) and almost every video game we own.

24. I love that you're a good sport and that you're willing to try new things. And that you're an amazing tango-er.

23. I love that you download all the tv shows I watch and save them for me.

22. I love that you never complain about how I underspice and overcook almost everything I cook.

21. I love that you're still reading this, because a lot of people would've given up by now.

20. I love that you never gave up on me, because a lot of people have.

19. I love that you keep me grounded. Because people as magnificently beautiful and intelligent as me often lose perspective.

18. I love that you make the phone calls I'm unwilling or unable to make. That you're willing to deal with stupid people for me.

17. I love that you've never criticized my appearance. When I was overweight, underweight and normal weight. When I hadn't showered in several days, when I hadn't run a brush through my hair in a week or put in my contacts for a fortnight, you still looked at me like I was something beautiful and special.

16. I love that you know what I like and you take the time to remember it.

15. I love that you let me pick out your clothes and that even though you don't like your hair short, you still get it cut that way.

14. I love that whenever I talk, you actually listen. This is a skill I'm working on.

13. I love that you vacuum the stairs and take out the trash. My life is made infinitely easier by not having to deal with garbage.

12. I love that you notice things and want to see new things. The fact that you are interested in my new clothes or my hair style is an extra awesome thing.

11. I love that you let me do stupid things that I'm hell-bent on doing (such as hiring a locksmith instead of driving to your sister's house for a key). It almost never works out well for me, but I appreciate that you respect my desires, no matter how stupid they may be.

10. I love how gentle you are. And not just with me, with all people. And not just physically, but also emotionally.

9. I love your eyes. I could get lost in them for days. I hope our children look just like you.

8. I love how you make me a part of your decisions. Knowing that my opinion and feelings matter is one of the greatest signs of respect for me.

7. I love that you love surprises. Someday I will learn to love them too.

6. I love that you want to get married, I feel so blessed that it's to me.

5. I love that you never stop caring. Even when I push you away and don't let you in, you don't give up. That perseverance is what holds us together. It's the glue, and you've taught me a whole new level of compassion.

4. I love how romantic you are. The fact that I got proposed to twice, (both times with you on one knee in an elaborately planned surprise) makes my heart flutter with happiness. Some people don't ever get that and I got it twice.

3. I love how incredibly intelligent you are. I can't wait to see all the incredible things you will accomplish. I know that you are capable of so much and it's just awesome to get to see it all unfold.

2. I love how supportive you are. You are my best friend and my biggest fan. You make me feel special all the time, even when I'm hardly even ordinary.

1. I love how happy you make me. As I was writing a note in the card I sent you (which depending upon New Orleans mail should make it there in 6-8 weeks) I wrote down the word "wife," and as the letters stared up at me on the card, I felt the most amazing feeling of happiness because I realized that I absolutely cannot wait to be your wife. Nothing in the universe is, or ever could be better than that.

Sigh. Today has not been a great day. And I know part of it has to do with how little sleep I got last night, but there are many things going awry right now and I'm feeling upset and unhappy about most of it.

I am working at the same camp I've worked at for the past 3 summers and I love it there. I've lived in a different location each summer and it's always a challenge to find affordable housing here. So this summer I've spent the first 2 weeks living at The Fiance's house and my plan was then to move into my friend's house for the last 4 weeks. I ended up needing to stay at The Future In-Laws a little longer to watch their cat, but now this week, I'm facing this move. And now it's like all of a sudden, all the problems that I had ignored for the past couple of weeks are sprouting up.

First, I don't have a room at my friend's place. I have a couch, in a very small and cluttered living room. I'm not a tidy person, but this room stresses me out. Also, both of the people who live in this apartment work other jobs besides camp, and they don't get home until between 9 and 11. Which isn't late, unless you realize how long the days at camp are. I'm usually asleep by 10 and having people tromp through the room I'm sleeping in is not going to be cool. Not to mention that the place isn't terribly safe and maybe I'm too old to be scared staying alone at night, but I'm not familiar with the area and it just doesn't rest well with me. And then there's the fact that I'm in the room with the only tv, which is what my friend has said is her favorite thing to do, well, besides exercise, and all the exercise stuff is also in the living room. I also like to get to work early. I do a bunch of things in the morning before work and these two girls are not early people, which will stress me out further. And reading this, I know these are really trivial things, but I just feel beside myself with anxiety.

I just feel like I'm losing my grip on reality. Like I do not know what to do because I'm feeling so awkwarded out by the situation. I really like this girl, but I feel like living with her will destroy our friendship. I also feel like it will destroy my sanity. One of the things I cherish the most is personal space and personal time and I just simply wouldn't have any there. But the other side is that I turned down the offer to stay at The Future In-Law's house for the rest of the summer, so now I look like an indecisive freakazoid because I'm changing my mind and imposing myself on them for like the 12th time in the last 2 weeks.

I feel like everyone thinks that I'm crazy, and like perhaps they're right. And so many people are irritated or annoyed by my decision and my freaking out over this, I just feel stupid and embarrassed. I don't know what to do, or what to say, but I feel hopelessly awkward and confused. I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I wish I could be self-assured or that I could not feel awkward around other people, but I do, and I always have and that's why I need that space so much. I need a place where I can sort out all those feelings swirling in my head, and the couch in a thumbnail sized apartment is just not okay.

So the short version is, I freaked out and now everyone is either a) upset with me; b) annoyed with me; or c) thinks I'm crazy. And I'm pretty sure my feelings about myself extend to all 3 categories.

Posted by
Overflowing Brain
at
9:04 PM
Labels:
The CampFriday, July 6, 2007

I am broke. No, that's not accurate, I am beyond broke. I am out of money and there's just absolutely nothing I can do about it. I get paid for my teaching job on the 10th of each month, which is Tuesday. I get paid for my summer job on the 11th, which is Wednesday. I transfered money from WaMu (where I don't yet have an ATM card or really much money actually IN the account) to my bank but it won't be in my regular account until Monday. So this weekend, I am broke. I mean, really really really broke. I couldn't even order pizza if I was starving to death, not that that would be my go-to food item.

And the broke-ness is starting to impact my social life. The problem is that I'm hanging out with people my age or younger, many of which are still living with their parents or on their dime, so they have money (I'm not saying that some of them don't have hard-earned money, but they're all working the same job I am, so they haven't been paid yet either), and I do not. I was invited to a Dodgers game tonight (I have friends, now all I need to do is encourage them to come to Louisiana!), with nice nice people and I had to say no, which just plain sucked. Since I'm out of money and my credit card is rapidly filling up, it's just not possible.

I guess the irony is that after a long hard week, I'm so looking forward to the weekend, and yet, more so, I cannot wait for Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I guess I'm just looking forward to the future in general. Pretty optimistic of me, huh?

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About Me

I'm a 26 year old former teacher turned full time graduate student. I live in Southern California after a 3 year stint in New Orleans with my husband Slappy (formerly The Fiance) and our cats (yea, we're those people).
In February of 2006 I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation, which is a fancy way of saying that my brain was too big for my skull (get it? overflowing brain). On November 27th, 2007 I had brain surgery which allows my brain to exist indefinitely in my spinal canal. 13 staples, one cow heart lining and a multitude of doctors and medications later, I'm living a much improved decompressed life.